Oh, Alice!
by Rowan J. Holden
Summary: Alice has---for a girl as strange and out-of-place as she---a fairly normal life. Until she receives the birthday gift of her dreams: The ultra-rare White Rabbit Patch. Collector's item. Then her reality is quickly turned upside-down.
1. In Which Our Tale Begins

"Once upon a time", as you know, has been used for centuries as a way to begin what society labels "fairy tales." These fairy tales are stories passed down through both spoken and written word. They are widely regarded as the best way to put your scared-shitless four year olds to bed in hopes that they might actually have a night without any nightmare-induced bed wetting incidents, which you _really_ don't feel like dealing with due to the fact that the washing machine is broken and any soiled sheets would need to be carried two and a half blocks down to the Laundromat where washing them will cost you your first born child's weight in quarters.

What I, as the author, am about to describe to you, is not a fairy tale. It is not fact, nor is it fiction. It is simply a journey. As to whether or not this journey actually even existed is up to you. As most fairy stories do, our journey begins in a magical place, where the unexpected is simply to be expected, and wildest dreams come to life.

New York City.

"Pythagoras was in no way a mathematical genius." This was why Daphne Asher was Alice Daniel's best friend. She made no sense. Unless you were stoned. Or asked her for an explanation.

"Really, Daph? You don't thank this guy every time you finish a math equation?" Alice smirked and twirled the combination dial on her locker with the long white fingers of her left hand. The other arm hooked tightly around textbooks, squeezing them to her chest to keep them from tumbling to the scuffed linoleum.

Daphne snorted and hooked her thumbs around the loops of her backpack straps. "Yes," she said sarcastically. "Yes, Alice. I do. I have a shrine above my bed and burn triangular incense in his name every night at midnight. Honestly? If he'd just had a life, he might not have been sitting in, night after night, playing with triangles and squares. A, B, C, F, U, C, K…"

The locker clanged open and Alice piled books inside of it. "Luckily I didn't have Geo today," she sighed. "But Mr. Davis is really cracking down on this Poe stuff. Five page essay on Dramatic Irony use in The Cask of Amontillado. Hell, the entire _story_ is dramatic irony."

"It's a good thing you read it when you were like, five," Daphne countered, tucking a strand of electric blue hair behind one heavily pierced ear. She glanced down the hallway, where the yellow buses awaited behind the rain streak ed windows of the double doors. "I have to go, Liss. See you later."

"Bye," Alice said, but the clang of her locker closing eclipsed her farewell.

Alice made her way down the corridor to the girl's bathroom, where she knew that she could relax for a few minutes before meeting up with her friend Rink.

Two girls in Abercrombie sweatshirts brushed past her as she entered the restroom, but she was alone inside. Alice wrinkled her nose at the smell of their perfume; it still seemed to linger in the air. She could picture them, rooting through their shopping bags that depicted half-naked men—too old for them anyways—and trying on clothes. _I don't understand why those brands advertise their clothing by showing pictures of people that don't wear any._ She let the thought flutter away and dropped her bag onto the tiles, before leaning over the porcelain sink and staring at herself in the mirror.

She held her breath for a moment or two. Her hair was darker than ink, and fell into messy, tentacle-like curls around her shoulders. One might call her beautiful, but her moonlight pale heart-shaped face and delicate features were—in her eyes—nothing short of plain. Two green eyes gazed back at her from the glass. Once, they had been like emeralds, burning with passion and excitement. Now they were drained, and a dull green, the color of pond scum. Lovely. "Hey."

Alice turned to face Rink and grinned. Alexander "Rink" Rinkowski was Alice's best guy-friend. Ever. He was tall and lanky, with straight ginger hair that fell neatly over one blue eye. Twin gauges glimmered slightly in his ears, and, as usual, he was wearing more eyeliner than she was.

"Where were you A period?" Alice asked, moving in for the secret handshake. They pounded right fists, drew them back, and interlocked their fingers. Then, they lifted their left hands, slapped their intertwined hands, snapped, and pulled away with fluttering fingers.

"Mr. Farber's office," he said. He lit a cigarette and leaned back against the tiled wall of the restroom. "They didn't like my clothes."

"You've been in uniform all day!" Alice said, giggling. "What did you do?"

"Tore the sleeves off of my jacket and sewed a Dropkick Murphy's patch on the back during Calculus." Typical Rink. He was quite possibly the smartest student that attended Hanlon Academy, and yet he just didn't seem to give a damn about behavior. He was a straight-A student, so in his opinion, it was pointless not to goof off a little. He took a drag of his cigarette and grinned at her. "They gave me an order form for a new uniform, but I'm not gonna get one."

"Didn't think you would," Alice said, slicking lip-gloss onto her mouth. She glanced at Rink behind her in the mirror. Sure enough, his white shirt was on, but his pale green Hanlon Academy blazer was stuffed unceremoniously into his backpack.

"Oh, and Happy Birthday," said Rink, tossing a thin package at her. Alice whirled around and caught it just before it crashed into the mirror.

"You remembered," Alice said softly, smiling at him. "I didn't think anyone remembered."

"I always remember, Liss. You know that. Open it."

Alice's fingers tore gently at the silver paper. It ripped, and her fingers brushed satin. She paused. Her eyes flickered over to Rink. He was grinning.

In one fluid motion, Alice slipped the paper off, and gasped in shock. "A White Rabbit!"

The White Rabbit patch was a collector's item. Only one hundred thousand were manufactured, and patch-collectors everywhere were breaking their life savings to get one. The Rabbit Patch trend had started when Alice was only thirteen. She'd been collecting patches since she was seven, and her Uncle Scott had treated her to a Gray Rabbit, the White Rabbit's close but more common cousin. The White Rabbit was truly rare. Flawlessly seamed satin in the shape of a beautiful winter hare was punctuated only by a single black spot of silk embroidery that formed the eye. She turned it over, her heart soaring. "…how?"

"I have my sources," said Rink with a smile. "I know that sounds cliché, but whatever."

"Thank you," Alice whispered, still caressing the soft, pearly fabric.

The White Rabbit seemed to smile at her.


	2. In Which Alice Meets the Cheshire Cat

Alice felt as though she'd been wandering along this path for hours. Strange arrow-shaped signs that said things like "This way to that way" and "Here, there, everywhere" occasionally punctuated the winding path, but they only confused her even more.

There was a gleaming silver fork in the path up ahead. She approached it and looked at it curiously. It was stuck into the ground in between the split in the road. "A fork in the road," Alice said, realizing its meaning. Despite her tired feet and frustration, she had to smile.

"You have a wonderful mouth. Does it bite?"

Startled, Alice turned suddenly to face the source of the strange singsong voice. There was nobody in sight. "Um…only when I'm eating…" she answered cautiously. "Who are you?"

"Who are you?" the voice asked her. "I know who I am, so there's no need to worry about that. But do you know who you are?"

"I'm Alice Daniels," Alice said, her green eyes darting erratically back and forth in the air as she tried to spot her invisible companion. "Who are you?"

"I am the Cheshire Cat," the voice said. "Behind you, my dear."

Alice turned once again and came face to face with a gleaming set of teeth. She fell to the ground, shocked. "Where did you come from?"

"I've been here and there, and this way and that…" the teeth sighed thoughtfully. Suddenly, like a flame spreads over a piece of paper that's been set alight, a faint shimmer appeared at the edges of the teeth. It rippled in the air until it spread out into…

…a purple cat. Alice stared in disbelief. "You're a talking purple feline."

"And how wonderful it is!" The cat said, walking with a swagger across mid air. "I must be off, now."

"Wait!" Alice cried as it vanished. "I don't know which way to go!"

"For the Hatter and the Whore, take a right," the cat's voice suggested, echoing in the air. "For the tweedles and the deedums, take a left."

"What's a tweedle?" Alice called to the air. There was no reply. Rather than taking the left hand path and finding out that a 'tweedle' was a dangerous wild beast the hard way, Alice started carefully down the Hatter's path.


	3. In Which the Mad Hatter is Bored

A small silver spoon dangled from Parker Hatman's hand. He swirled a sugar cube around in his tea with it, watching lethargically as the fragile white lump dissolved.

The table was set up, as usual, in the middle of a small clearing in the infamous Tulgey Wood. The thought of a tea party in the center of the forest of dark magic and gloom made Parker want to smile. He suppressed the urge, though he didn't quite know why.

The mahogany table was an antique, and the delicate lace that covered it was next to priceless. Such an elegant table and classic spread seemed ridiculous underneath the pastel colored teacups and elaborately designed silverware that rested on top.

"Hey, Parker, are you okay?" Angelica March, Parker's only true companion and biggest fan, had her gaze trained on him. Angelica had what Parker called a "girlitude." She acted like a ten year old at times, but when she wanted or needed to be, she could act like the playboy bunny costume wearing, sugar cube throwing, hair flipping little slut that she was. She tilted her head to the side, causing one long velvet rabbit ear to flop over a springtime-green eye.

"Parker?" She frowned. Parker didn't look up. She pushed her long red hair behind her shoulders and threw a sugar cube at his head.

It didn't it him. It merely bounced off of his top hat and fell into his tea with a small splash.

"What." Parker said dully.

"I asked if you were okay."

"I'm fine. Just tired. Nothing ever happens here anymore, you know?"

Angelica rolled her eyes and set her teacup down on her saucer. She pushed her chair back and stood up. Her long legs swished as she sashayed over to Parker.

Parker felt her hands close over his shoulders. "Come on, Parker, tell me what's wrong. I'll cheer you up quickly, it never takes long." Her lips were at his ear. Nice try.

He shrugged away.

"I'm fine, Angelica, for heaven's sake."

"You look simply awful. Please, give me a break! I'm just trying to help you, I know that you're bored, but anything's better than being ignored!"

"Why must you always start talking in rhyme?"

"I find it amusing, it isn't a crime. Get over yourself and get out of your chair…"

Angelica trailed off into silence. Parker looked up at her. She twitched a finger over his shoulder. She lowered her voice to a whisper. "We have a guest, Parker. She's right over there."

Parker flicked his eyes up to the stranger.

A girl his age stood shyly at the edge of the clearing. Her hair was blond, and fell just past her shoulders. A black satin ribbon held it out of her eyes. Her dress was a soft powder blue, tied back with a white sash that held her apron in place. White stockings encased her legs. Her black ballet slipper shoes glinted in the late afternoon sunlight.

"Excuse me," she said shyly. "I've lost my way, and I was wondering if you could tell me where I am. I was told by a Cheshire cat that I would find a Mad Hatter and a 'desperate whore' in this forest, and that they could tell me what to do."

Parker glanced at Angelica. She raised an eyebrow, clearly miffed.

There was a long silence.

"Well, thank you anyway," the girl said uncomfortably. "I'll just go…"

As the blond haired girl turned to leave, Parker's emerald eyes locked with hers. His heart stopped. She was leaving. He couldn't let her leave. All he had to do was confuse her. Get her to stay…

"Wait!" he called. The girl paused, her face open and expectant.

"Happy Un-Birthday!" Parker shouted merrily.


	4. In Which Alice is Tied Up

Alice felt as though she'd been wandering along this path for hours. Strange arrow-shaped signs that said things like "This way to that way" and "Here, there, everywhere" occasionally punctuated the winding path, but they only confused her even more.

There was a gleaming silver fork in the path up ahead. She approached it and looked at it curiously. It was stuck into the ground in between the split in the road. "A fork in the road," Alice said, realizing its meaning. Despite her tired feet and frustration, she had to smile.

"You have a wonderful mouth. Does it bite?"

Startled, Alice turned suddenly to face the source of the strange singsong voice. There was nobody in sight. "Um…only when I'm eating…" she answered cautiously. "Who are you?"

"Who are you?" the voice asked her. "I know who I am, so there's no need to worry about that. But do you know who you are?"

"I'm Alice Daniels," Alice said, her green eyes darting erratically back and forth in the air as she tried to spot her invisible companion. "Who are you?"

"I am the Cheshire Cat," the voice said. "Behind you, my dear."

Alice turned once again and came face to face with a gleaming set of teeth. She fell to the ground, shocked. "Where did you come from?"

"I've been here and there, and this way and that…" the teeth sighed thoughtfully. Suddenly, like a flame spreads over a piece of paper that's been set alight, a faint shimmer appeared at the edges of the teeth. It rippled in the air until it spread out into…

…a purple cat. Alice stared in disbelief. "You're a talking purple feline."

"And how wonderful it is!" The cat said, walking with a swagger across mid air. "I must be off, now."

"Wait!" Alice cried as it vanished. "I don't know which way to go!"

"For the Hatter and the Whore, take a right," the cat's voice suggested, echoing in the air. "For the tweedles and the deedums, take a left."

"What's a tweedle?" Alice called to the air. There was no reply. Rather than taking the left hand path and finding out that a 'tweedle' was a dangerous wild beast the hard way, Alice started carefully down the Hatter's path.

She came to a small white bridge over a babbling silver brook and crossed it. On the other side was a clearing, in which a boy with jet black hair and a top hat and a red haired girl wearing a bunny-ears headband sat around an elegant tea table. As she approached them, Alice saw the redhead motion in her direction. The boy turned and looked.

"Excuse me…" she said, blushing slightly. "I've lost my way, and I was wondering if you could tell me where I am. I was told by a Cheshire cat that I would find a Hatter  
and a 'whore' in this clearing, and that they could tell me what to do."

The girl with the bunny ears stood up and raised an eyebrow at Alice. Her eyes were lasers that scanned and took in everything about her—the black patent leather ballet flats, her black and white striped tights, her Hanlon Academy uniform, her black pixie haircut—with apparent distaste.

Alice was doing the same. The girl wore a tight red corset and fishnet stockings. Her feet were encased in shiny white heels, and her hair flowed like a river of auburn curls down her bare back. White gloves fit tightly around her forearms, and Alice wondered if they were really gloves, or just painted on. Either way, this was definitely the Whore.

The boy rose from his seat, too. He was tall. Lean, but not quite thin. His arms were clearly muscular, and the tight fitting black tuxedo that he wore was anything but covering him. There were rips and tears everywhere on his outfit that exposed the delicate lines of a black mesh undershirt. Whether it was a fashion statement or otherwise, the look was very appealing. His hair was oily black, and fell over one eye. The other, emerald green, glittered interestedly at her. He was the hatter, of course. The shiny black top-hat that adorned his head was sure proof of that.

There was a long, uncomfortable silence. "Well, thank you anyway," Alice said awkwardly. "I'll just go…"

The boy immediately jumped out and cried, "Happy Un-Birthday!"

"Un-birthday?" Alice echoed, confusion playing across her face. "What…"

"It's the day that you weren't born, of course," he said. Alice rolled her eyes. That made sense. "Have some tea, love."

"She's very cute," the redhead giggled, licking her lips in Alice's direction. Alice flushed red and turned her gaze back to the black haired boy.

"What's your name?" she asked him.

"Oh, names, names, names," he sighed. "What's in a name?"

Alice bit her lip in frustration. He wasn't giving her a single straight answer. "I'm Alice," she offered, trying to get him to snap out of his whimsical speech pattern.

His eyes took on a strange glint, and he smirked. He set his teacup down on a saucer. "Alice, my love, are you… lost?" Alice stared at him.

"I think she's lost, lost, lost," the redhead sang softly, coming up behind Alice and running a fingernail across her jaw. The touch made Alice shiver.

"That's what I've been telling you," she said indignantly.

"No, no, no, come sit," said the black-haired boy.

The red head gently pushed Alice towards the tea table. She pranced away, leaving Alice to sit down cautiously. The boy reached for the sugar bowl. "One sugar? Two?"

"One," Alice heard herself say. The boy's hand plucked a single cube of white sugar from the bowl, and it splashed, kicking and screaming in a tiny, tiny voice, into her teacup. Alice watched as it slipped below the surface and dissolved. She leaned over slightly to peer into the sugar bowl. The rest of the sugar cubes were all quivering in sheer terror.

"Now," the boy said, taking a bite of a small pink-frosted cake. "Are you lost? Or are you found?"

"I'm lost," Alice said, her eyes wandering about the table as she studied the myriad of pastel patterned teacups and oddly shaped pots, bowls and dishes.

"Ah, so you've found it!" The boy's expression was triumphant.

"I haven't fund anything," Alice argued back. "How can one be lost and found at the same time? It makes no sense!"

"Ah, but you have found," the Mad Hatter said, tossing his teacup into the air. He caught it neatly in his other hand. Not a drop of tea had spilled. "That you are lost!"

"I understand, I think…" Alice said.

"Good, good!" the Hatter cried. "Angelica, isn't it wonderful?"

"Good, good, wonderful…" the redhead called Angelica echoed, coming up behind Alice once again and stroking her shoulder, which was bare from the tears her uniform had suffered when she'd fallen into the sewers.

Angelica's touch was ringing warning bells in Alice's head.

"I'd better go," Alice said quickly, standing up. "Thank you so much for all of your help." The next few moments seemed to pass instantaneously, and yet Alice could see, hear, and feel every millisecond as it dragged by.  
First, Alice turned to leave. Angelica grabbed her wrist. The teacup went flying, and the sugar bowl was knocked off of the table. And, with astonishing grace, the Mad Hatter leapt over the tea table and landed on top of Alice, pinning her to the ground. The teacup landed on his back, splashing warm liquid over both of them.

Although a mere cupful of tea had spilled, the two of them were somehow completely soaked. Alice turned her eyes to the left and saw dozens of small white cubes hysterically flailing their arms as they tore away into the safety of the forest for freedom.

"Oh, deary me," he said, his eyes gleaming.

"Oh, deary, deary me!" The white satin rabbit squealed, hopping through the clearing at lightning speed. "I'm late, I'm going to be late!" Alice's eyes widened, and she twisted her head to shout at the rabbit.

"Wait!" She cried. "Come back! Where are you going?" But the rabbit was gone.

"Oh, deary me," the Hatter said again. "You've spilled the tea. And now we're both quite wet, you see. And if before, you didn't look sweet…" He lowered his head and licked a drop of tea off of Alice's neck. Her eyes widened, and her heart began to pound. She stared up at him, frozen with terror. "Well, now you look good enough…" he licked her neck again, dragging the tip of his tongue slowly and teasingly across her throat. "To eat," he finished, his eyes dark with lust and mischief.

"Easy, Parker, let's not forget. The tea that she spilled got your best suit all wet!" Angelica reminded him, pretending to sound concerned. Alice swallowed. So his name was Parker.

"So! How shall we punish her? What shall we do?"

"I say we make her moan. How about you?"

Alice's heart was throbbing through her shirt. Are they serious?

"That sounds like a wonderful plan, mi amor! Let's make her blush, play with her, make her beg for more!"

"Please, don't," Alice whispered, finally finding words.

"Watch my hand," Parker said, his emerald eyes glittering. He waved his gloved hand slowly in front of her face. Suddenly, he snapped his fingers. The sound startled Alice, causing her to blink. When she opened her eyes, she gasped.

They were on the ceiling! In the room from before!

The knee-high door, still asleep, now snored quietly a good twenty feet above her head.  
Parker and Angelica stood side by side about five feet away, both obviously satisfied.

It was then that Alice realized that she was bound to the floor with thick ropes of red liquorice. "Hey! What the hell? Let me out of here!" she said.

Parker shook his head sadly. "I simply can't do that, my poor little dear."

Alice swallowed hard. Parker snapped his fingers once more, and Alice could feel the soft chill of air against bare skin. Her school clothes had vanished. All that was left was her black bra and underwear, contrasting beautifully against her snowy skin. She whimpered slightly. "Then what are you going to do?"

"Simply sit and stare, unless you make a scene. I'll touch you not, unless you fight. I'll show you what I mean."

Alice pulled as hard as she could, twisting the liquorice ropes to try and escape. She was stuck. It was no use. _This is bad._ She wasn't going to lie. She was really into bondage. It was a huge turn-on in the right situations. But this boy, this 'Mad Hatter', was a total stranger!

She tried begging. "Please, let me go," she pleaded. "Please."

"Nope!"

"Fucking hell!" She growled impatiently.

"What's this? Watch your tongue!" Parker stuck his own pink tongue out at her and loped to her side, where he sat cross-legged in mid-air. "You won't get out by screaming. If you think it'll work, you're dreaming. Just tell me what you want."

"I want to get out!" Alice snapped.

"Well, I suppose," Parker sighed thoughtfully. "But you look so pretty all tied up, you know."

"Pervert," Alice hissed.

"Ooh, Parker, she's feisty," Angelica giggled from the tea table.

The Hatter was silent, his eyes trained on Alice's chest.

"What are you doing?" Alice said furiously. "Stop looking at my— "

"I'm watching your heart beat," Parker said, sighing again. "Such a pretty sound."

Alice squirmed again. "Please, Parker," she said. She used his name for the first time. He seemed to stiffen, as if someone had poked him in the back with a stick. "Let me out."

"Parker Hatman, age sixteen," a dormouse recited sleepily, poking his head out of the Hatter's breast pocket. He lifted the mouse out of his coat and laid it gently on the tea table. "More commonly known as The Mad Hatter, or the King of Hearts."

"The King of Hearts?" Alice said, but the dormouse had already curled up inside of an empty teacup and gone back to sleep.

Parker's eyes were still on Alice. "Fine. You can go," he said, his eyes running up and down the length of her body. He lifted a hand, and Alice held her breath.

"Oh!" She cried out in surprise when he lowered it and brushed it smoothly up the inside of her leg. "Wh-what…" She stammered, trying to think past the unwelcome wave of arousal that she was fighting. Staring up at Parker, Alice bit her lip as he pulled off his white gloves and slowly traced one finger up the inside of the other leg. His face was blank.

"What are you doing?" Alice demanded in broken gasps.

"I'm getting you off, to get you out," Parker replied simply. "That's the only way it can be done."

"Please don't," Alice begged as he swiftly switched from her legs to the milky pale skin of her stomach. His pinky and forefinger were extended, and they drew twin lines of nerve endings that screamed approval up her abdomen. She tried not to vocalize her pleasure, knowing that it would only give him satisfaction.

"You're fighting it," Parker said suddenly. His expression was curious. "Why?"

Why was she fighting it? It should have been obvious! She opened her mouth to speak, but stopped as realization struck her. She locked eyes with him.

_I don't know. Why _am_ I fighting it?_

Her thoughts were interrupted when Parker's hand—hovering only inches above the black fabric of her underwear—caught her eye. She watched it linger in the air for a moment, her eyes wide. He didn't move.

"…please, Parker," she said again. Then, something very strange happened. The words left her lips, and then she paused to listen to them in her head. 'Please, Parker', she'd said when she was begging him for freedom. But this—though the words were the same—felt curiously different.

Parker seemed to notice this, too. His eyes flashed in her direction and locked with hers.

_What am I begging him for this time?_

"She wants it, Parker," Angelica snickered. "She wants it bad. Are you going to give it to her?"

Alice's heart seemed to skip a beat as she realized what Angelica meant. What was wrong with Alice's second request?

She wasn't begging him to let her go.

She was begging him to do it.

The tiny spark of arousal that she'd been fighting suddenly flared up into a fiery mass of unrelenting desire. "Please, Parker," she repeated a third time. He still had his eyes trained on her face.

Hours seemed to pass as the Mad Hatter lowered his hand. He slowly let it drop, and then teasingly and gently touched Alice through the thin fabric of her panties. She let out a soft moan and closed her eyes, turning her head to the side so that she wouldn't have to meet his gaze.

She felt him bend his finger slightly and drag it down to the very bottom of her underwear, then press into her and trace a line back up to her navel. She moaned again, arching her back slightly.

He touched her a third time, now with two fingers, and slowly began to caress her. She bit her lower lip and gasped, trying to force cool air into her body to soothe the heat of her internal fire.

Angelica lit a cigarette.

As his hands slowly worked themselves up and down the pale contours of her figure, Alice twisted and writhed, trying to make her body meet Parker's hands halfway. After a few moments, it came to her attention that the liquorice twisted tightly around her wrists was becoming soft and stretchy.

Never in Alice's life had she been touched like this. Despite the countless efforts of every boy in the school to get with her, she was a virgin, and had never even so much as taken her clothes off in front of a boy. Daphne was the one that usually messed around in closets at parties. Alice was more of a dance floor person.

"How pretty you are," Parker was murmuring to her, lifting his hand for a moment to brush hair out of her eyes. "Am I going too far?"

"No…" Alice whispered. "Please… more." Keeping his left hand at her neck, Parker resumed his toying with her right-handed. Alice could feel his cool fingers pressing to her jugular, and she knew that he was listening to her heartbeat again. "Oh, god, yes…" she whispered, resting her head back on the floor and closing her eyes. His hand somehow found its way underneath her head before it hit the ground, so she wouldn't have to lie on a hard surface. "Mmm…"

The liquorice was almost broken, but Alice was no longer trying to escape. She was feeling his hand ghost across her body, his eyes burning into hers. "Parker," she moaned quietly, her chest rising and falling rapidly with her breath.

Angelica was watching, transfixed, her face flushing furiously red. She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, tapping the end of the cigarette to knock the ash off.

The waves of ecstasy came in shorter intervals, now, and with such intensity that it was all Alice could do to keep from screaming Parker's name.

"Fuck!" Alice gasped, her cry of pleasure echoing off the walls of the upside-down room. She gave one last sobbing moan, and then she climaxed.

Her eyes locked with Parker's, and she felt the last rippling swell of pure pleasure before she collapsed, breathing hard, into fetal position. A fine sheen of sweat made her skin gleam in the sunlight that leaked in through the window. For a moment or two, her soft pants and whimpers were the only sounds in the room. Finally, she turned and gazed weakly up at Parker. He seemed pleased as he stood up and walked placidly back to the tea table.

"You have learned not to fight," he said happily.

Angelica flicked her cigarette away and rolled her eyes. "Big deal," she said sardonically, still flushed. "So she learned some basic crap. What's the point?"

"Jealous, much?" Alice said, propping herself up on her elbows. "Frankly, I'm getting rather sick of your attitude."

"So what?" The redhead shot back. "Why should I care what you think? You're just a boyfriend stealing bitch."

"Shut up!" Alice said harshly, and then paused, confused. "I mean…"

"You've done enough harm as it is, Angelica, leave this poor girl alone. First you cause her to spill the tea, and now you accuse her of stealing your 'boyfriend', which I'd never been in the first place. Now give her back her clothes." Parker pulled his gloves on and dusted his suit off as Alice stood up, still shivering slightly from the chilly air.

Angelica stuck out her tongue at Alice and snapped her fingers. Alice's clothes reappeared on her body, just as they had before she'd been tied up.

"Thanks," she muttered.

"No problem. Bitch."


End file.
